The walls rose like mountains.
From where Kael stood, they seemed to scrape the sky, their stone faces weathered by centuries of storms and the blood of beasts that once hurled themselves against them. The Kingdom of Eryndor had never known life without the walls. They were not just stone and mortar; they were salvation, the only barrier between humanity and the endless horrors that prowled beyond.
Kael had grown up in their shadow. Every morning, as he trudged through the narrow alleys of the Orphan District, he'd glance at the looming battlements and wonder what lay on the other side. He'd never seen the world beyond, but the whispers were enough: beasts with claws sharper than steel, eyes that glowed like embers, and jaws that could crush men like twigs.
The Lusters fought them — those chosen few who crossed the gates and returned with blood on their blades and scars on their souls. To Kael, they were legends made flesh. To others, they were reminders of a truth everyone wished to forget: the world outside wanted humanity dead.
Kael tightened his grip on the basket of stale bread he carried. The baker's son had thrown it at him that morning, laughing, calling him gutter rat. Kael didn't care. His mother was sick, her breath shallow, her skin feverish. The bread was for her.
As he turned down the crooked lane toward his crumbling home, voices drifted from the square.
"…another breach last night. Near the Southern Wall."
"A beast inside the kingdom?"
"No — the Lusters stopped it. Barely."
Kael slowed. His heart gave a sharp tug, the way it always did when he heard about the walls. Breach. Beast. Lusters. Words that carried both dread and hope. He wanted — no, needed — to be among them one day. Not just to fight. Not just for glory. But because the cure for his mother's sickness was said to lie within the blood of the highest-ranked beasts. And only a Luster could ever get close enough to one.
He entered the dim cottage, ducking under the sagging beam. The air was damp, filled with the faint scent of herbs. His mother lay on a cot, her face pale, her body trembling beneath thin blankets.
"You're late," she whispered, her lips curving into a weak smile.
"I brought bread," Kael said softly, kneeling beside her. "The good kind."
She chuckled, a sound that ended in a fit of coughing. He helped her sit up, broke the loaf into pieces, and placed one in her frail hands.
"You'll get better," Kael said firmly, as though speaking it aloud might make it true. "I'll find a way."
Her gaze lingered on him, filled with both love and sorrow. "Kael… you're too much like him."
Kael's chest tightened. Him. She never said his name. The world spat it often enough — the legendary Luster who vanished in disgrace. Kael carried his blood but none of his honor. At least, not yet.
Before he could answer, a deep horn blast shook the cottage walls. The bread dropped from his mother's hands. Kael froze. He'd heard stories of the horn but never in his lifetime had it been sounded inside the kingdom.
The beast horn.
He ran outside, heart pounding. The square erupted with chaos — merchants shuttering stalls, mothers dragging children indoors, guards shouting for calm. Kael pushed through the crowd until he reached the gateward street.
From the top of the wall, a soldier shouted: "Tier One beast! Breach at East Gate! All civilians indoors!"
Kael's breath caught. A beast… inside the walls?
He didn't go indoors. His feet carried him faster than thought, weaving through panicked crowds toward the East Gate. Screams rose ahead. The smell hit him first — copper and rot, like meat left too long in the sun.
Then he saw it.
The creature leapt across the cobbles, its skin a mottled red, its limbs too long for its body. Its head jerked unnaturally, and its gaping mouth revealed rows of blackened teeth. Its eyes glowed with hunger.
"A… Yara-ma-yha-who," someone gasped behind Kael.
The Tier One beast dropped from a rooftop, pinning a guard beneath its clawed hands. The man screamed once before his chest was torn open.
Kael's body moved on instinct. He seized a fallen spear, heart hammering in his ears. He had no training, no blessing, no beast essence. Just raw desperation.
The monster turned toward him. Its tongue lashed like a serpent, dripping black saliva.
Kael swallowed hard, his palms slick with sweat. He remembered his mother's words. You're too much like him.
Maybe that wasn't a curse. Maybe it was the truth.
He charged.
The spear scraped the cobbles as he sprinted, then drove forward with all the strength he had. The beast shrieked, swiping at him, claws tearing the air. Kael ducked, rolled beneath its swing, and thrust upward. The spear buried itself beneath the beast's jaw.
It convulsed, thrashing violently. The force wrenched the weapon from Kael's hands, throwing him against a wall. He scrambled up, blood streaking his face.
The beast collapsed. Still.
Kael stood over it, chest heaving. Around him, soldiers and civilians gaped in stunned silence.
An orphan boy had slain a beast within the walls.
Kael didn't notice their stares. His eyes were fixed on the dark blood pooling from the creature's wound.
Somewhere deep in his bones, he felt it — the first pull of power, faint and terrifying. The beginning of something greater.
And for the first time in his life, Kael realized he wasn't meant to hide behind walls. He was meant to tear through them.